Power
by Robotic Fox
Summary: Power means everything... One-shot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors...Erin Hunter does.**

**Warning: Violence**

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Scourge stared down at the shaking she-cat below him on his garbage can perch, his face expressionless and still as his ice blue eyes practically drank in her pure, unsaturated terror coming off of her.

The young female's anxious, dirty yellow eyes kept shifting back and forth to the ground and back up to him as her paws began shuffling nervously in the dirt, signifying to him how scared she really was, her body trembling like a quivering leaf, her ears flat. He relished in it, her unmasked and unbridled fear that she was emanating and displaying to him in waves.

The she-cat, Cinnamon was her name (he knew every cat's name here), knew she had done something wrong and was now afraid of the consequences. Afraid of him. Afraid of him and what punishment he would deal out to her. This to him only showed how powerful of a leader he had become. His own subjects were trembling like feeble, defenseless kits beneath him because of his own presence.

Judging by her appearance, he knew she was definitely a lower-ranking cat in the Clan. Her ears were nothing more than shredded ribbons from where, most likely higher-rankers or other defensive lower-ranking cats, had slashed them to keep her in line or off of feeding grounds that provided some scraps of food. He could also see she was not the best of fighters as scars, scabs, and other sorts of nasty wounds littered her body, telling countless tales of lost fights during her time here.

Her bones and ribs were prominently showing through her own pelt, her face and stomach clearly sunken in. Her amber-yellow eyes were dull with hunger and her light tawny and white pelt was lackluster and covered with mange, which was common for lower-ranking cats.

Feh. Lower-ranking cats were always causing trouble of some sort…but he might as well hear her motive. He wanted to hear a good story anyway…

"Cinnamon…" he addressed coolly, causing the she-cat to flinch violently, her eyes anxiously locking on his cold and power filled ones.

"Y-y-yes sir…" Cinnamon squeaked out, her body tense, her voice high-pitched and shaky as she fruitlessly tried to remain calm under his gaze.

"According to Brick, you were seen trying to steal food from one of our higher-ranking officers. Is that correct?" he hissed coldly, still remaining his prim and proper seating stature from before. His red, teeth-studded collar was more prominent on his neck, revealing the cut it had dug into his neck. If he wasn't careful, it would start to bleed again. Oh well. He would deal with the thing wearing into his neck if it still displayed how powerful he was.

That was one of his ultimate obsessions now. Power, blood, and revenge. It pretty much made up his whole life now. They were the only things that really mattered.

Cinnamon swallowed rather heavily before she shakily mustered out, "Yes, Scourge. What Brick has reported to you is indeed true."

Scourge was a little surprised by her confession. Huh. He had expected her to give him some fabricated lie in an attempt to save herself. He wanted to see where this would go.

"May I ask why?" he drawled out, his voice sharp and causing Cinnamon to tense up once more, her tiny claws springing out of her paws from pure, fearful instinct. He had to bite back the urge to smile. Oh how powerful he really had become! His voice, which admittedly was a little high-pitched, was enough to strike fear in others. Just his voice alone! He wanted to laugh with glee.

But he had to remain controlled, keep his composure. He had an image to keep. He was the proud and cold leader of BloodClan, the ultimate Clan of them all. And for his Clan to remain on top, he had to get rid of any weaknesses. Tackle out any problem. But why not play around a little? Listen to her story…maybe it would peak his interest. Or amuse him. Both worked in his favor he guessed in the end.

"You…y-you see sir…I have some kits…and they're quite young right now. I mean…they just started to eat solid food now…" she paused once more and swallowed, only this time, not out of fear…but out of grief and sadness.

Quickly growing impatient, he quickly snarled, "Go on!"

Cinnamon jumped at that, took a shuddering breath and stared at the ground as she continued her story, "They'd barely survived when they were milking…in fact, not all of them did…I lost one of them. Splash, who was the runt, but Bat, Wing, and Frost had survived, but even now, they're sick…and weak. They're thinner than me because of the lack of food we've been taking in. You see sir….they won't make it if I don't feed them…Scourge, sir! Please! You must understand! I beg and plead of you! They're all to precious for me to lose like I did Splash…please. Please!" The she-cat was practically wailing at this point, her voice desperate.

Scourge sat in silence, pretending to mull over what she had said, when in all actuality, he was quite disappointed. He had literally known all this information beforehand.

He knew literally everything that went on across his grounds. He'd known about Cinnamon and her starving kits since the day they were born. He had even seen one of her kits in person before. Wing to be exact.

She had been a small, mostly black little scrap of fur, but had white splotched across her body in random places. The thing was nothing more than fur, skin, and bones, her bones prominent through her skin. He could see by her runny eyes and nose and awkward walking pattern that she was ill and sickly, and given by Cinnamon's report, all the rest of them were like that too.

One of his higher-ranking cats, Wheel, had nearly slashed the hungry, rather brave kit with his claws for getting to close to his food when Cinnamon had jumped in and basically took the blow for the kit before she grabbed the squealing thing and slunk away to try some food in a safer area for her kits.

He could see by how weak and sickly the kits were…they would be of no use to him or his Clan. They would most likely stay in the lower-ranks forever given how sick they grew. One of the cats in his Clan, Grime, had a permanent cough, which hindered his abilities in made him one of the lowest ranking cats in the Clan. He had long since died, killed by one of the higher-rankers for getting to close.

But none of his cats knew how much he knew. It was the one thing that made him feel even more powerful. He knew everything that went on here. Nothing escaped him. Spies, knowledge, and more told him everything he needed to know. It was this fact that made many of the cats here to afraid to rebel against him. They didn't know how much he knew or how much of their fighting style he knew.

He had rebels every now and then. What sort of hierarchy didn't? But because of his power, they were handled and disposed of quickly, discouraging other to even try. He had no time for traitors, though he would admit, watching all the hope slip from their eyes before he tore the life right out of them was all around pleasing.

He had achieved this level of power all by himself…no one there to help him. And for that, he took major pride in.

Cinnamon, still thinking he was weighing down his options gazed at him, hopefulness in her eyes until suddenly, he narrowed his eyes cruelly, causing her face to fall in terror.

Jumping off of his perch, he stalked over to her, snarling, "Why would I let a low-ranking cat such as yourself steal food for you and your weak kits who offer nothing to my Clan? We're low enough on food where we're at, much less letting rats like you and your kits take stuff."

Various other members of BloodClan began swarming in to watch what would unfold, curiosity in their eyes at the sudden noise. They surrounded the exits, preventing Cinnamon any chance to escape, even if she wanted it, their eyes expressionless as they watched the latest punishment. The latest victim.

Cinnamon's took a couple of steps back which Scourge quickly covered back, her eyes wide with horror. She opened her mouth and quietly wailed hopelessly to the other cats surrounding around her, "Help! Please-"

Then, before she could utter another word, Scourge raked his claws across her throat. She stood in shock for a moment, her body trembling rather violently from pain and shock, before she vomited out a mouthful of blood and fell over limp and dead. Scourge watched the body fall, his face expressionless, his white foot now stained red with the she-cat's blood.

The bystanders all then turned away. Some of them indifferent, having seen these a lot of times, while others left shell-shocked, hopefully learning their lesson if they ever wanted to attempt what Cinnamon had done.

Scourge then turned to his deputy, Bone, who had been sitting silently and unmoving the whole time and snarled, " Dispose of her body, Bone!"

Bone dipped his head and mewed a quick, "Yes sir," and padded over to drag off the dead she-cat's limp form as Scourge padded away to explore a little.

Scourge made it toward the entranceway of the alley before he froze and turned around, his cold blue eyes facing his deputy as he coldly mewed, "Next time Bone…I recommend you choose a she-cat with a higher-rank to have kits with."

And with that, he swished his small black tail and disappeared, Cinnamon's blood still matted on his paw.

Bone remained completely silent at that.

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**A/N: Well...that was dark. Tell me if I should rate it up higher.**

**Critique is requested. **


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